


Summer in December

by EmeraldWaves



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Drabble, I had a lot of Saru feels, M/M, SaruMi - Freeform, i dunno what this is, kind of, language cause Misaki, past sarumi, post S1, short fic, vague references to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5271143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misaki is Saruhiko's summer ghost, a warmth he can't bear to admit he misses in the winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer in December

Taking a breath in, he could feel the cold air rip down his throat, like nails scratching at the sides of his neck. Saruhiko hated winter. He despised the way the cold ate away at his extremities, his fingers curling into tight fists inside his pockets. Worst of all, winter reminded him of a warmth he no longer possessed.

If he truly wanted to, he could dig down to his core and bring forth the heat which still existed in his body, though a scar on his chest would allude to otherwise. He could remember what it felt like, the burning flame shooting through his body completely. The red would roll up his spine and spread through his bloodstream. His fingertips would warm the surface of whatever it was he touched, his body tingling with a red hot heat as the color overwhelmed his being.

It was exhilarating, overwhelming...oppressive.

He shivered and tucked one knee up to his chest, his foot draping over the edge of the park bench. If he just went home to the dorms it would be warmer there. He could put the heat on, a cup of tea and curl up with his laptop, wrapped in the rough dormitory-provided blanket. A simple fifteen minute walk and all these things awaited him. Yet he sat calmly on the bench, a glutton for the cold punishment which blew against the tip of his nose.

With each breath he took, a gentle puff of air rolled out from between his lips. The heat fogged up the bottom of his glasses for a split second with each breath he took. He watched as people strolled by casually. The chatter of the city penetrated his ears but he couldn’t hear anything, except for the telling roll of wheels against the frozen pavement.

He should’ve known he would see him. This park wasn’t far from that damn bar. Maybe he did know he would see him and claiming he found this particular park calming was a determined lie he’d drilled into his brain.

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?” The words were spat as they always were nowadays; filled with a hate Saru had brought deliberately upon himself.

He remembered when Misaki’s lips curved in the opposite direction, filling Saru’s body with a warmth the red had never given him. When he had Misaki, he had never been cold. Seeing him like this always brought a rush of memories. Overwhelming feelings Saruhiko had desperately tried to push away with the red he had come to hate so much. Seeing Misaki in this cold weather always brought a glimpse of a warm home he had lost, a warm home Misaki had no use for.

With a brush of cool air, Saruhiko could remember how warm their old apartment was. The two of them sitting on the couch under a blanket while they watched T.V. Misaki's laughter buried itself under Saru's skin, warming every bone in his body. The two of them cooking together in the kitchen, the heat from the flames of the stove keeping their hands and faces warm. Their lips locking together, mingled their warm breaths, helping to keep their entire bodies heated. Their limbs intertwining as they rolled their body heat together, needy for even more warmth in the darkness of the wintry nights. The two of them. Together.

The flashes were brief, like a flame flickering out in the icy city wind.

He had never needed the red like Misaki did to feel warm. The two of them had given them all the heat their small world had needed. Summer in December.

For a moment he could feel the red boiling inside of him and he was terrified. Terrified to open his mouth and let the red seep out from his lips, revealing the mess of color swirling inside his being. After a beat of silence, he finally spoke.

“Aren’t you cold, Mi~sa~ki~?” He trilled the name on his tongue.

The shorter boy wore the same boring clothes he always did; A baggy white shirt, putrid green shorts and that damn ugly red sweater tied around his waist. Saru stared at the bottom half of his legs, bare, until they fell into his socks. It was though the other was teasing him and it made his heart throb with rage. He remembered how much Misaki loved to be touched just where his shorts fell. Saru couldn't help remembering how his soft fingers trailed up the back of Misaki's upper leg. His lips caressing his inner thigh, soft, hot pants from the red-head filling the room. One Saru’s favorite sounds.

“Hah!? Of course not!” Misaki yelled his retort. Saru didn’t need to see the red to feel it emanating from Misaki’s body. Turning his nose up at the other, Misaki folded his arms over his chest. “I bet you are though!”

Saru felt his nostrils flare as his neck grew lose, his head dropping back against the bench. He stared up at the grey sky as he opened his mouth, laugh after laugh erupting from his vibrating vocal cords. The puffs of air from his mouths flowed out one after another and Saru kept expecting one cloud to have a hint of red, a betrayal of his own traitorous body.

What would Misaki say if he knew the red was still alive inside of Saru? He was certain there were a few times the red had leaked out of his pores, mixing with the blue he used so often now. However, he doubted Misaki had ever noticed.

Would he ask him to come back? That would really make Saru laugh. He almost wanted to see it happen.

“You always did know how to make me _laugh_ , Misaki.” The words had more bite than the cold enveloping their bodies. He yanked his neck up, staring down the other. Misaki looked tired, he now noticed. Was he not sleeping? Was it because his precious King had been murdered by Saru’s? Did Misaki finally understand what it meant to lose someone precious and dear? Did he finally understand what it was like to lose his world? Saru’s heart raced with his thoughts. 

“Whatever. When did you become such a weirdo?” Misaki breathed out angrily.

Saru's body was split, like the colors battling inside of him. If he chose blue, he could walk away and continue to leave Misaki as he did again and again. As the other had done to him so many damn times. Or, he could choose red, stand up and wrap his arms around Misaki, mingling their reds together. They could share their body heat again, a comfort Saru had been without for years. He had forced himself to not care for so long. He had forced himself to walk away from Misaki, to stop the overwhelming pain of the cold Misaki had brought to his heart as Saru watched the other move farther and farther away. Instead of letting Misaki be out of his reach, he was now out of Misaki’s.

He curled his fingers into fists against the cold wood of the bench. _His_ Misaki had been gone for years. A summer ghost burned in the depths of his memories, the warmth he couldn’t access even if he wanted to. 

“I’ve always been like this, Mi~sa~ki~” he purred, lowering his face as a glare on his frames hid his eyes from the other.

“No you haven’t!” he growled.

“I have!” Saru yelled, standing up in front of the shorter boy. “You used to worship me, so you didn’t notice. You can see my true colors now that you worship someone else. Of course, a lot of good that has done you.” His words were cruel and he knew they were. He knew they cut into Misaki’s skin, to the deepest parts of his body. He had been acting like this for so long, he couldn't stop the poison which coated the words flying from his mouth.

“B-Bastard!” Misaki voice quivered. He half expected Misaki to throw a punch or start a fight. Instead, he stood, eyes lowered while his lips trembled. He was far more broken than Saru realized. Turning away from the shorter, Saru swallowed and began to walk away from Misaki, just like he always did. The person behind him wasn’t the Misaki he knew, he kept reminding himself of that one simple fact. Misaki’s King was gone but it didn’t change who they had become. He didn’t deserve Misaki’s warmth anymore. He was meant to stay a summer ghost, warm in some part of Saru’s mind which had long been locked away.

“I hope you freeze!” he heard the other spit out behind him.

“I’m already frozen,” he muttered under his breath.

Saruhiko hated winter.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally just a short drabble and then somehow it turned into this mini-fic. I don't usually post shorter things, but I was sort of okay with this one...though perhaps Saruhiko is a little to cruel? Hm. I had a lot of Saru feels after the last episode. Of course I sort of imagined this taking place around the movie, a little before it or so? but yes. <3 Thank you for reading ^^
> 
> Talk to me on twitter @musickazoo or tumblr - emeraldwaves.tumblr.com I'd love more K friends <3!


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